


Marvels - A (mostly) Captain Marvel Story

by Darklady



Series: MARVELous 'Verse [4]
Category: Captain Marvel (Comics), DCU - Comicverse
Genre: Angst, M/M, Male Homosexuality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-22
Updated: 2012-05-22
Packaged: 2017-11-05 19:26:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/410148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darklady/pseuds/Darklady
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's got to be a morning after.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Marvels - A (mostly) Captain Marvel Story

**Author's Note:**

> And the story continues.  
> So does my lack of ownership.  
> *sigh*

“Morning.” I whisper, pulling back the top layer from the lump of blanket curled into the hollow of my chest.

Mink soft eyelashes flutter over sapphire eyes. “Bill...?”

The question is enough to set me checking. Paranoia there. I would have *noticed* a bolt of lightning. OK - maybe not. Last night was... intense. But from the look of my hand on his shoulder I’m still William. Which is good, because I’m not sure how Kon would take waking up with the underage set. Not something I want to test out any time soon. Also good because I’m quite sure Billy isn't old enough to appreciate the unconscious strip-tease by the demigod emerging from my flannel bedding.

Well? From the corner of my eye I catch a rising spot on my own sheet. Billy might be too young, but ‘little Billy’ sure wasn’t. ‘Little Billy’ was appreciating the hell out of matters.

I have the urge to tell Kon that. Hell, I have the urge to just kneel down and worship him, to babble about how perfect he was and how much I loved the feel of having someone inside me who could also be someone beside me, and of how I wanted time itself to freeze and this never to end. An urge I crush, because men don't say things like that.

Not to mention that a luv-struck Marvel would probably freak the kid even worse then waking up in kiddie-land. So I pull up my brightest smile and ask. “You were expecting?”

He rolls into my arms, and for a decent length of time the conversation is suspended in favor of a more pleasant use for our lips.

Maybe the kneeling down and worshiping wasn't such a far off idea after all.

Except? That would mean I’d have to abandon those perfect lips that were pressing into mine. Which was *not* happening. Not in any world I could influence. The brush of his palm over my balls decided matters. I left one set of fingers combing tough those impossibly thick sable curls and sent the other set to find the matching curls elsewhere. Share the wealth as it were.

He is morning hard, and I don’t give a damn if it’s me or last night's Soder, because either way the hot thickness feels so damn good as I wrap my hand around it. Almost as good as his hand feels on me.

Holy Moley! I gasp as his fingers clamp around my own swelling flesh. Finally someone who can make me *feel* it. I buck up - not even conscious of my own movement - but his free hand holds me in place. Presses me back into the mattress immobile as he ruthlessly pulls the pleasure out of me.

Ten strokes and I’m cuming. Spraying myself over the hard flatness of his stomach.

Damn - how did that happen? *When* did that ever happen before? Even when I’ve bottomed I’ve always been in charge. Always been edgily aware that any yielding was intentional. Deliberate. Always had to actively restrain myself to keep the strength of Atlas from overwhelming a merely mortal partner.

This time? I might have been the mortal, for all the difference it made.

I add a tickle to my own touch and that does it for him. Age and...well, not treachery, but a hell of a lot more experience. Not that he isn't doing his best to make up the gap. Dedicated student if I ever saw one. Going for a PHD in buggery. With honors.

An evil little voice in the back of my mind asks why I wasted all those years when I wasn’t even considering his... big brother... cousin.. whatever the Blue Boy Scout is. Other then incurably straight, which is of course the answer. Little Billy isn't impressed by that argument. Not given the pure mind-bending pleasure of those adamantium fingers that are still casually playing with my balls.

And the kid isn't even at his full strength?

I have this sudden vision of the Captain - red suit down around his white-booted ankles - being bent over and fucked though a bloody *mountain*. Damn if it doesn't make me hard again.

Kid laughs at that. Not mocking - just happy. Sixteen year old body means he’s got the recovery time of a rabbit in heat, so he just presses himself back into my hands and the whole who-comes-first game starts all over again.

Don’t think I’m going to hold out long this time either.

I gasp as one long finger burrows between my cheeks. Where the hell did the kid learn to do that? About my last rational thought as the blunt nail circles the back door to heaven.

Nope, I concede, wrapping my legs around his waist, I’m not going to last long at all.

Doesn’t matter - this is the sort of game both of us will win.

Twenty minutes later I’m lying back, not quite catching my breath - it being technically impossible for my Shazam persona to become ‘winded’ by mere physical exertion - but definitely being aware as my heartbeat slows to it’s more accustomed level. Aware also of time passing. Too quickly. I still have some, but Billy does haves school this morning. I’m just considering whether it would be grossly inappropriate - given that the kid was a virgin until last night - to suggest a quick bit of morning delight. I mean - reciprocity be damned - I’d be more then willing to bottom again. Not my usual style, but the wisdom of Solomon means being wise enough to be... flexible... when the situation calls for it. I’m about to say as much when a harsh buzz sounds from the living room.

Mood killer.

Kon slips from the bed and pads out to where his jacket had been discarded the evening before. “My phone. I’d better check in.” 

I follow. Company - or just to start breakfast. For some reason I have quite an appetite.

I watch with repleated appreciation as Kon reaches up to rummage through the jacket pockets and pulls out a S-logoed cell phone. 

“Folks?” I ask. I know he said he didn’t have any, but someone is keeping the kid in ‘Super’ toys. ‘Course, that could be any of the group he worked with. Lots of folks will put of the props for meta-types. For the ego, or the public good - or maybe because it cuts down on destruction if the powers don’t have the hassle of taking things for themselves. The last bit the JLA tends to discourage, but... the hint is sometimes out there.

Captain Marvel, of course, is above accepting such gifts. Mores the pity. Not that I can’t just scoop up a fistful of diamonds, but there’s a part of Billy that regrets losing the limelight.

He’s been listening more then speaking, but I break though. Kon slaps his hand over the phone and answers “Lab.”

I head back to the bedroom - both to give him some privacy and to pull on some clothes. Not that I can’t hear both sides of the conversation perfectly well from here - hearing of whoever-the-hell - but it’s still polite to pretend.

Basically he’s getting yelled at by someone called Stirling, who wants him back NOW! Well, actually last night some time, but in the absence of time travel now will do. Kon is trying to explain that he *did* sign out, and that someone named Harper had his emergency number - but snit-chick isn’t listening. Seems that the powers-that-wanna-be decided at about ten that they needed to run some high risk experiment, and they had to delay it because ‘security’ wasn't on site. I decide I don’t like the girl’s attitude, so I stroll back out and reach for a frying pan. Not the world best cook, but spending the better part of a century on my own has taught me something.

“You have time for breakfast?” I pull out a carton of eggs. Normally Billy would hit the school breakfast, but I do keep supplies in the place for weekends and post-patrol snacks.

“Sure.” I enjoy the scenery as Kon wanders around gathering up last nights discarded clothing. He pulls the pants out from under the lounge chair. “Bring on the bacon and eggs.”

Bacon I don’t have, but I figure some of the sandwich ham will be close enough. Toss in some onion and a can of those little potatoes and I can manage a decent skillet fry. I put some toast under the broiler. Two pieces won’t be anywhere near enough. Not for a teen - and especially not if Kon’s appetite has kicked in like mine has.

Not *that* appetite, I slap down little Billy. Thing seems to have a mind of it’s own. Not that my mind is thinking all that differently. A body out of a prime-time wet dream - and it’s walking around my living room. Naked. That’s bound to give rise to some... hopes.

Hope. That’s one more thing I know better then to let rise. I’ve done the morning after scene before - and my memory tells me I should be grateful that the kid is still here. As opposed to already out the window and half way to Antarctica.

I mix the bits together and dump the scrambled eggs over the top. No milk - Billy gets that at school - but I have OJ. Or more soda. Not a great idea nutrition-wise, but I am *not* the kids dad - so I put it all out.

Kon has collected the rest of his gear. Astounding how some of it traveled. He holds out the rags of yesterdays t-shirt and frowns.

Damn. I’d offer him something fresh, but neither William nor Billy have anything in his size. Besides which, I don't get the impression he’s over-eager to have the S.T.A.R. crew find out just *how* he spent his ‘holiday’. 

I say as much.

Kon picks up mine - discarded over the TV - and gives it a sniff. Apparently it passes. “They are going to yell at me anyway.”

I sprinkle some pepper into the pan and shrug. “At least they care...”

He makes a face. “They care for their lab rat - or their office boy. Lift that. Go there.” He accompanies the rant with broad gestures, hampered a bit by the occasional posture required to pull on his pants. “They don’t care for ME!” His voice is muffled by the heavy t-shirt going over his head. “They treat me like I’m a kid!”

Little Billy thinks the rant is cute, but the Captain side apparently feels compelled to be the voice of reason. “You are still in your teens. That used to be a kid.”

Used to be enough to get me arrested for even suggesting what we did last night. Of course, back then actually doing it was unlawful at any age, but I knew what I meant. Too young to drink. Too young to screw. Old enough to get killed - there being a war on back then and all - but? Any age was old enough to die. Even nine. Just like any age was too young.

“Yeh.” Kon snorts, clearly unimpressed. “But they way they act, I don't think they’re going to get over it.” He sits on nothing to pull on his boots. “They just don’t understand. What could be worse then being *sixteen* for the rest of, like - eternity?”

“I don’t know.” The voice of reason again, but this time maybe Billy - the real Billy - as well. “Being twelve?”

“What?” Kon spins in mid-air.

What the hell - this *was* supposed to be mentoring. Even if it turned into the hottest sex in Marvel memory. But every idyll comes to an end. Usually because reality shows up to end it. I point to the picture on the refrigerator door. Little Billy in his red pullover posing for the school photographer. Last years shot - but I could bring out an album of them. “That’s me. That’s *really* me.”

He takes in the photo. “Since....?”

“1940.” I take a moment to enjoy his balls-kicked expression. “Yep. That’s yours truly- and it’s going to stay me until… well, until I finally die and the wizard picks someone else to be ‘master of the lightning’ or whatever the Daily Planet is calling it nowadays.”

“Shit.”

A pretty appropriate response, if I want to think about it - but this is not a pity party so.... “Not always.” I pull out a stack of toast and drop it own the table. Butter and jelly too. “It was pretty nifty for the first fifteen years or so. I mean, there I was, a nothing kid, and suddenly I’m flying around bashing evil scientists and getting the key to the city. It was really keen.”

Kon smiles. He knows the gig. But after a minute the grin fades. Because he knows the rest of the story too. Or suspects.

“And then?” Because there’s always an ‘and then’. Generally not followed by ‘they lived happily ever after’.

I motion him to a chair.

He takes it.

“Then I started to notice things. Girls.” That’s not the only think I started to notice - but this is neither the time or the place for existential angst. But sex was a big part of the whole paradigm shift. Plus it’s the part that’s relevant to now.

“Girls!?” Now *that* is the voice of shock. Total and sincere. About what I’d have expected from his big-blue co-gene if I mentioned liking my own gender.

“Sure.” I scoop up two plates of scrambled-eggs-and-junk and join Kon at the kitchen table. “I like girls. Women, I should say.”

Kon digs in. Mostly to buy time. Over a mouthful of eggs he says. “I *thought* I liked girls. Women.” More pause, this time spent getting the grape jelly coverage perfect on a slice of toast. “Like I told you, I wasn’t entirely a virgin, but....” Suddenly the jam became *really* fascinating. “But...” 

I could argue the virgin point, but... why bother? He’s surely not now... at least not entirely. “The Tanya lady?”

“Tanya, yah. I think maybe I loved her. Or would have. And then there was... well, there were a lot of girls. Some I worked with. Some were just... girls.”

Just girls, eh? Not exactly PC, but I get the meaning. Too clearly. “But they didn’t do it for you?”

“They didn't do enough.” Kon rips at his toast crust. “And then there was this guy... boy really. I told you about him. One of us. And I liked him. I *really* REALLY liked him. And I though he liked me. REALLY liked me. But then he started hanging with this girl...well, two girls, and... I couldn’t complain, because I like girls too. At least I think I like them, but... but...”

“You like this guy better. You like him the way that he likes them.” Isn’t that how it always ends? Dropping my fork, I reach over to pat his hand. Just lightly. Like a friend. “I understand. I like women. I like men too. Maybe better. Well, definitely better. But women are nice. Very nice. And once I had the red suit, there were always a lot of them being nice to me. Or rather him.” 

Kon follows my finger.

I point at the Shazam poster on the wall. Souvenir of a more innocent time when the Captain actually posed for such things. I keep it for the memories of the time - and or the memories of the man who took that photo. Time is tragedy for us all.

“And you want them to like you.” As opposed to the suit. Which is half his attraction to Mr. Whoever-it-is. Ninety percent of his attraction to me.

“But that is me.” Or at least a part of me - but I don't need to add that, because I’m talking to someone who lives there.

“It’s easy when they’re after the blue-and-red.” He flashes that hear-stopping grin. The one that goes straight from my eyes to my groin. “Or in your case red-and-gold.”

“Too damn easy.” Which is what he meant. I think back to my own mistakes. People would be surprised at that - but they shouldn't. Even Solomon had trouble with his wives. Lesson there. “Or it looks that way. Until you’re in it and then...” I move back - but not away. “It isn't easy at all.”

“Because they’re ... people.” And Kon has too much of the hero in him not to feel that. Not to hurt for that humanity and all it’s wants.

“And we are too.” Which means that so many of those wants we just can’t supply. Not when what they want is not human. When so much of the motivation is not to make love but to seduce a god. But I don’t need to say those words because his eyes tell me he had already been burned.

“So you...” He looks at me. For answers, mostly - but that’s all right. Because it isn't the ‘tell me’ that I see from the crowd. Isn’t the demand for perfect wisdom descended from on high. No- this is the honest look. The ‘give me a map’ that come from trusting I’ve been down the road before, and figuring that whatever traps there were I’ve stumbled into and still survived. That looks respects me - and from that respect I answer.

“I didn’t get two kids out of a cracker jack box.”

It takes a few seconds for that to sink in. Not because the kid is slow - just because - well - I just dropped the best kept secret of the meta-world right into his slightly-bruised lap. When it does? Fork on the table - eggs in the air.

“Mary and CM3?” His voice cracks. Actually cracks. Which is a nasty reminder that I’ve been in bed with a teenager - technical age be whatever it is. Proof that this was an even sharper reminder to him that *he* was actually for real in bed with the Cap. Which you’ve got to figure is an even greater shock. “I thought they were....

“I know.” Like I know damn well that I should be mentoring - not considering how his skin would takes if I licked off that speck of onion at the curve of his mouth. Focus, damnit. 

“But...” I read the rest in his face. He has worked with both of them, and...

“Never believe everything a press agent tells you.” Which you think he would know - having had an agent of his own - but the kid is young. Not to mention that Cap *does* have that white-bread persona that has convinced half the JSA of his perpetual virginity. “Mary and Freddy are mine, all right.” A moment more to let that sink in and I add. “ By the way? Everything they tell you in school about teenagers being *far* too young for fatherhood? They’re right. Wish they’d had those classes when I was a kid. Might have stopped me from screwing up.” Hell - I wish someone had plain out stopped me from screwing. Period. Especially considering *who* I ended up screwing. I mean - couldn't I have done the beast with some nice heroic slut like Phantom Lady rather than.... I put that memory out of my mind. Not relevant to what I’m tying to accomplish here.

“I love my kids.” No hesitation there. I honestly do - whatever else may have come between us, there was never a lack of love. “And I’m proud of them.” Again true - and not just because they’ve saved the world umpety- dozen times. “They turned out a lot better then I had any right to expect.” Better then even a good parent would have a right to expect. Honest and loyal and forgiving and tough and ...well, I’m their father, but I don’t think that has colored my judgment all that much. “But I honestly feel I haven't been a very good father to them. How could I?” Now I’m the one mangling my toast into sticky crumbs. “Most of the time they were growing up I was either flying around playing God or I was this kid who wanted to be their playmate rather then their guardian.”

“No!” It’s a denial - but not of Mary or Fred. He believes me that far. “I mean CM3 - he... really likes you. Really he does. I mean, we’ve fought together and... He’s a great guy. Really. I mean, we all voted to ask him to join Young Justice. Unanimous.” A split second of social panic before he adds- “Mary too. I mean, they’re both really cool.”

Ever heard about hearts swelling? It’s real.

Strange emotion. I mean - I’ve read about how important it is for your date to like your kids - but I never related it to.... well... me. Mostly because I never really had that sort of date. I mean - I had had people over. Sometimes. Mostly when they didn't have a safe place of their own, but still... that was dating. Technically. And I had had a few longer term relationships. Well, longer term fucking arrangements. My honest side knows it’s not a relationship when the only thing you do together is screw. More like membership in a sports team. Like a bowling league for my prick. But this is...well... different.

It takes me a moment to realize *how* different. This is... permanent. Oh - maybe not the physical part. I don't know if we’ll ever do that again - although I’m beginning to hope really hard that we will. But even if we never get together that way - this is still a non-stranger. Someone I know. Someone whose family and friends I know. Someone who knows my history, and my kids. Someone I will meet with and work with for the rest of our unnatural lives.

I wonder if Kon realizes that - and I quickly hope he doesn't. Not yet. He’s had enough to cope with in the last twelve hours. I send up a quick useless prayer that whoever is running his show will give the kid a break before he realizes that his morning blush is likely to extend for the next eighty plus years. Along with an equally futile prayer that - when he does learn - he won’t regret it.

“CM3.” Kon manages to say the strange title as if it was a name. Probably to him it is. He’s heard stranger. “ He really digs you. And I sort of know why.” The hand that was comfort heads up my arm - with a different intent.

Then again - maybe he’s not having so much regret. New generation - and new attitude.

I give the hand a squeeze before I set it free. “Thank you, Kon.” The words come out with a lot more emotion then I had expected.

“For the...” A gesture that would be rude - under other circumstances. Used here? When words fail? It's cute. Sexy as hell - but cute.

“That, of course.” *That* way of course. On a level of thanks that would have me singing hosannas’ if I wasn't so shagged out. I mean - sex is always a gift but last night was Christmas and several birthdays. Complete with some very fancy wrappings. Yet it fades completely before the morning after. Not in a bad way.

“But also for what you said about my kids.” So much for what he’s said about my kids. Not something I’ve realized until just this moment, but... I’ve missed that too. Speaking about Freddy and Mary. Hearing about them. Another layer of normal that isn't mine.

“Oh - yeh - well.” Strange. The kid that won’t blush when he’s been up my ass - and he’s head-down at one sincere complement. “Meant it.”

He did. That's what makes it so - good. Damn good. I spare his blushes and busy myself with clearing the table. Don’t quite know how, but while we weren't watching the food managed to vanish.

He surrenders the fork - then stares at his hands. “You wanna fly over with me.”

A major bit of the morning-after uncertainly in his voice - but the offer is sincere. Not quite ‘do you want to go steady’ - but a damn sight better then the usual ‘I’ll call’. And a hell of a lot more then a taxi home.

“I’d love too.” But even as I say that I’m shaking my head. I want to. I really do. Clear air. Exercise, wonderful scenery. Even maybe looking at the landscape. But Billy has to be at school today. On time. I missed to many days already, fighting Mordru, and I *don’t* need another note to my Uncle. Still... I sigh.

Kon misreads my hesitation. “It’s OK.”

“No, it’s not OK.” Because it’s not. OK would be hearts and flowers and going back to bed for at least a week while we learned each other’s souls along with our bodies. OK would be all kinds of shit that isn't here and isn’t likely to show up here. “It's just how it is.”

Which we have to live with - because our sort of lives doesn't leave the room needed for OK. 

Kon understands. I see it in his eyes - and in his posture. The way he stands. The way he straightens, as if reclaiming the weight of the planet. “So. See you around.”

It’s a dismissal. Not of me - but of something else. Hope - maybe.

I ought to let him go. Open the door and let both of us step out into our destinies. But... even Captain Marvel is not that pure.

“Kon?” The word breaks in my throat.

“What?” Shot over his shoulder - half defensive. A broad shoulder - but are any shoulder that broad? Should they need to be?

“Are you?” I step forward - into kissing range. “ Are you busy... tonight?”

 

*FINIS ?*

=

=

=

=

=

©KKR 2012


End file.
